


Ascent of the Defenders

by Sigma_Alpha_Mannaz



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fanfiction, Humor, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 11:52:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6237529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigma_Alpha_Mannaz/pseuds/Sigma_Alpha_Mannaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High School A/U:</p><p>Five teenagers find themselves stuck in the same detention room:<br/>Sherwood, an 18 year old with narcolepsy; Nicolas, an Alaskan lumberjack who looks as intimidating as a Russian boxer; Edmund, an Australian exchange student who has a passion for blowing up labs; Tatiana, an ex-cheerleader with an attitude; and Jack, the orphan outcast.<br/>Fate brings people together for a reason. This year will hold some of the best memories they will ever make: sleepless nights writing projects together, attending last minute Halloween parties in irrelevant costumes, and even going on a road trip in Nicolas's "Sleigh" (it's really just a car) -- but also some of the worst. By being forced into becoming the school's protectors, otherwise known as the "Defenders", they will provoke the rage of the school's most feared student: Pitch. Blood will be shed, hearts will be broken, and worst of all, hope will be lost. It is then, in the darkest of times, when the mightiest rise, and the weakest fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ascent of the Defenders

**Author's Note:**

> To Emily, who has coped with my consistent nagging and tied my loose ends. Thank you for keeping me sane under the italian sun <3

He pushed the door open, not really surprised that the classroom was empty. He sighed, slumped his shoulder for his bag strap to slide off, caught it, then threw it down on the floor by the back corner table. He shoved the chair back, dropped himself onto it and propped his feet onto the desk, pushing his back to recline and set on the wall behind him. He pulled the earphones hanging from his hoodie's collar, fit them into his ears and fished for his phone to start playing some music. Scrolling through his library, he set upon Metallica, then, pressing shuffle, pulled his hood over his head down to his nose-bridge, then slowly closed his eyes.

Three songs later (and from what he could tell was the beginning of Enter Sandman), his mind having already shifted to drowsiness making these merge into one long never-ending strain, he felt a clank. He pulled his hoodie up a bit to see he wasn't alone in the class anymore -- but was the only conscious one. In the desk two rows in front of him (from what he could see from his position) was a guy with spiky, messy bright blond hair. It was 3:56 pm, and this guy seemed to be already done with life since he was passed out, his body slammed face first onto his table.

Before he could cover his eyes again to fall back into his 2 hour nap, he saw another guy walk in. He was tall, lean, tan, and definitely did not look from around here. He was wearing a muscle tank that said Surf's Up, which showed off the double black band tattoo on his upper left arm, and flip flops. What was interesting about him was his hair: mostly bleach blond except for a big streak of grey and black on the right side of his wavy lived-in hair. This one eyed the classroom, looked back at the clock, pursed his lips, then walked to a desk on the right second row. He took out a book from his bag along with a black case from which he pulled out a pair of glasses, took off his shoes and slid his feet onto the table, leaning his chair back and started to read.

As the clock hand hit precisely 4 pm, a small girl, wearing clothes that looked like the My Little Pony color wheel puked all over them, came rushing in. She frantically checked her wristwatch, looking more than a bit panicked, then sat down in one of the front seats. She then started to bite her nails.

Now that he knew he was surrounded by weirdos, he was ready to go back to- Oh and they just kept coming. This one was huge. He swore he even felt the ground shake once he set foot in the classroom. He was a mountain of muscle, all wrapped up in loose washed out torn jeans and a red flannel. He had thick, bushy and dark eyebrows, big enough to put in shadow his hooded crystal blue eyes. He had a big downturned nose, and below it the rough start of a stubble, which looked as if he tried to shave it recently but failed. He could hear the size 47 Timberlands stomp through the blasting music coming from his earphones. Unlike all the nervous others, this guy smiled, said something that he could not hear, then sat next to the sleepy guy.

Okay now he knew that he could- The teacher came in. It was Mr Blythe. Easy. He sighed, rolling his eyes and took out one earphone.

"It's exactly 4:02 pm. I know I am a bit late but I got caught up in a phone call, which brings me to this: there is an emergency at my house and I have to leave." To this the girl got up and the Beachboy closed his book. The other guy was still sleeping.

"Not so fast." The teacher said in an elevated tone, "That does not mean detention is over. You still have two hours," he paused, "of coursework. While I am gone you will do the work that I will write on the board and when I come back I will check it." The Beachboy sighed and put down his book. "If you make a sound or even attempt to leave the classroom, Mrs Marx who is in the other room will hear you, and you will be sure to add four more hours of detention to your list of social activities. Are we clear?"

Nobody answered besides the girl who anxiously said "Yes."

"Good then." He scribbled down four lines of coursework from some book on the blackboard, then put the piece of chalk back on the rim, took his leather briefcase and left.

"This is bull." Young Alex Pettyfer said as soon as the door closed. He lifted his glasses off his nose bridge just enough to scribble down the work, then put them back down.

"I'm not supposed to be here." The girl muttered, setting a fresh piece of paper on her desk.

"So vat? Vork? No problem, I do!" The buff guy said (who was now obviously Russian), then looked at the board and said "Oh, I don't have the book."

The sleepy guy was still sleeping.

He knew he couldn't deal with this. He could see the pages he was supposed to complete, but he knew perfectly well that 1) He didn't own the book, 2) he sucked at algebra, and 3) he had no desire to do it at all.

"Hey," The buff guy poked the napper, "Hey." He tried again, but no answer. Dopey didn't move a muscle. "HEY!" he screamed, pushing his hand a bit harder into Sleepy's arm. Just as if he was seeing sunlight for the first time in his life under the effects of weed, messy hair boy opened his eyes slowly, moving his head to the left, blinking as if dead weights were hanging from them.

"Do you have the buk?" Muscleman said. Mary Jane was still in the middle of yawning and rubbing his right eye. "Do. You. Have. The. Book?" he repeated again, only louder, pointing at the blackboard. The sleepy guy pointed his right finger in a cutting motion over his left stretched out palm, then pointed at buff guy, then shook both hands in front of him like a dj mixing two tapes*.

"OH!" The buff guy's face lit with excitement, "you are deaf!" He smiled, "I had a deaf friend back in Alaska. Uh-" he raised his eyebrows, leaned his head forward, put his hands to his chest and made pinching movements, pointed at Dopey, bent his hands in 90 degrees angles and pointed at his chest, then lastly put his palms together and opened them**.

Weed boy looked surprised. "Ve in same class. My name is Nicolas Olezka Rurik Tolya Hedeon.***" he laughed. "People call me North." He started making other gestures with his hand, but Sleepy put his hand on his shoulder and with the other circled around his mouth****.

Suddenly, the girl got up from her chair and started pacing around the room, still biting her nails.

Beachboy noticed. "What's wrong love?" he said, shifting his glasses from his nose to the top of his head.

"Nothing, nothing." she said with a shaky voice, "I just... I shouldn't be here."

"Why's that?" he asked, leaning back on his chair.

"It's--I--" she stopped pacing. "Is this going to be on my record? I mean, will my grades be affected? Is this some kind of three strike system like in baseball? Because I can't strike out, I can't." Her face twisted in fear. "What if, what if I can't be Valedictorian? What if I can't graduate? What if-"

Blond thunder got up and put his hands on her shoulders. She really looked tiny. "Shhhh, calm down love. Everything will come good, okay?" He lead her back to his desk, and sat her in the one right next to it. "Why'you so bundled up?"

She let out a breath, then looped her caramel fringe behind her ear. "Well, I've never been in detention before. I've never even got into trouble. I have a spotless record, and now I messed it up." she laughed nervously and got up, "But it's not my fault! She kicked me off the cheerleading team for no reason! I'm sure it was because I was better than her." She sat back down. "I got in a fight. By the time the Guidance Counselor broke us up her nose was bleeding. Now I will never get into Med school." She dropped her head into her hands and started crying.

Beachboy leaned closer to her. "Bull dust. You have no reason to be upset. Frankly the gal had it coming." The girl lifted up her head. "As far as your school rules go, I'm not too sure, because I'm new, but she'll be apples. I'm sure just one incident won't cost you." He laughed, "I've come a real guster: I made chloroform in Chem class." She looked surprised. "What?" he said, "I don't have the equipment at home. Besides, it was just an experiment." He huffed a sigh, "I never got caught in Australia anyway."

Suddenly, he pulled out his earphones and stood up. He was going to leave these guys to their problems. He eyed the clock: 4:10 pm. He walked halfway to the door before North called at him.

"Hey kid, ver are you going?"

"Out." he said with a shrug.

"Ve still have detention. Ve have vork." he retorted.

"It's Blythe, he doesn't check the work you've done when he comes back. I know him, I've been here a million times." He headed for the door again.

"Vat are you going to do then?" Lumberjack asked.

"More of the stuff that got me in here in the first place." He said, pulling his hood off. It kept falling back over his eyes and it was annoying.

"One last thing," said North, "Vat's your name?"

"Jack." he said with a mischievous smile, waved, then slammed the door shut.

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I am not a specialist in sign language, I barely know any at all, so for most of these I searched them up on the internet. Next to each description, I will put an asterisk with the definition and link. 
> 
> *https://www.signingsavvy.com/sign/WHAT%20ARE%20YOU%20DOING/8020/1 = What are you doing?
> 
> **https://www.signingsavvy.com/sign/DO/549/2, https://www.signingsavvy.com/sign/HAVE/183/1, https://www.signingsavvy.com/sign/BOOK/514/1 = do you have the book?
> 
> ***I wanted North's name to be an acronym, but to still keep his original name, Nicolas. I searched up classic Russian names, and here are the definitions behind the names I've chosen:  
> Olezka: holy  
> Rurik: ruler  
> Tolya: from the east (since he is originally Russian)  
> Hedeon: tree cutter (since his job in Alaska was to cut trees, but this will be explained later on)
> 
> ****https://www.signingsavvy.com/sign/LIPREAD/3801/1 = I can lipread


End file.
